


Sir have you simply considered getting better armor

by ShiDreamin



Series: Dmcl Week 2020 [5]
Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: CYL - Freeform, Fanservice, Humor, M/M, Pining, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26066107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShiDreamin/pseuds/ShiDreamin
Summary: It’s not that chest hits are weird. Oh, no, not at all. Aiming to stab the heart is pretty much as standard as war can be. The lungs being right in the same region? Bonus.It’s the fact that everyone keeps aiming for Claude’s chest… sideways.The first time he walks out of war with his V neck cut a little deeper is fine. The second time, weird, but perfectly acceptable in the heat of battle. By the fifth time, he’s more than a little tired of covering up.What is up with people and his chest?
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan, Edelgard von Hresvelg & Claude von Riegan, Lysithea von Ordelia & Claude von Riegan
Series: Dmcl Week 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1882669
Comments: 6
Kudos: 128





	Sir have you simply considered getting better armor

It’s not that chest hits are weird. Oh, no, not at all. Aiming to stab the heart is pretty much as standard as war can be. The lungs being right in the same region? Bonus.

It’s the fact that everyone keeps aiming for Claude’s chest… sideways.

The first time he walks out of war with his V neck cut a little wider is fine. The second time, weird, but perfectly acceptable in the heat of battle. By the fifth time, he’s more than a little tired of covering up.

What is up with people and his chest?

“You’re not the only one who walks off with damaged armor.” Edelgard points out. She isn’t wrong, but she’s not grasping the point either. Last Claude saw, she made it off the battlefield with nothing more than a few scratches in her armor and her hair ties lost somewhere in the heat of the moment. Considering the state of several of their new female heroic allies, it’s rather impressive. Claude doesn’t, and still would rather not, know how exactly half their clothes disappear from a single arrow. Seriously. What kind of arcane magic is that?

“No,” Claude sighs, shaking his head, “I’m not. But you make it out with your shirt intact.”

“That’s certainly true,” she concedes, with a smile that he matches. The Edelgards, plural, that he’s met in Askr have been delightful. Different. Meeting her as a student was nostalgic, seeing her in Flame Emperor armor awkward, and shaking her hand in the red attire she wore when he killed her bitter.

This Edelgard, the one who arrived in this world the same time as he, older and wiser and sweeter than he could have ever planned for, is the one who pats his back when he repairs his shirt for the tenth time.

“Have you considered simply wearing better amor?” She teases, smacking at her golden plate.

“I’m content with my not fake boob armor, sorry,” Claude grins, laughing when she smacks his arm in retaliation. It’s hard not to tease her when she makes it so easy, and his smile fades into something softer. The Edelgard he once fought would rather be found dead before joking with him.

But he’s sure the Khalid she killed wasn’t quite so friendly either.

“Besides, I can’t wear something that bulky,” he murmurs, glancing to his wyvern. He hadn’t expected her to follow him through the portal that opened in the sky, dragging him and Lysithea through it without a warning. Still, she’s a comfort in a land where little else is familiar.

“Too heavy for you, I’m sure,” Edelgard says, considering. She taps her chin, humming in thought before a twinkle of mischief sparks in her eyes. “Say, have you seen what Lorenz has been wearing?”

“I’m leaving,” he informs her, delighted to hear her laugh.

Claude hasn’t made it a point to avoid his former classmates, though he’ll admit it has been a tad awkward speaking with them. His arrival to the Askr castle was heralded with banners declaring his title as “Almyra’s King,” and suffice to say, it did not go over well with those from Fodlan. It didn’t even go well with _himself_ , the kid who hadn’t learned yet that there will be people who trust him, who love him, who would die if it meant he could live another day.

Sometimes, though, Claude looks at him and wonders how far he’s come.

“What are you musing about?” Lysithea breaks into his thoughts. It’s his Lysithea too, not the one who glances between the other Claude and him with furrowed brows. She’s been treating that one different ever since the news got out about his heritage, and, well—

He’d feel bad for it, except his Lysithea’s never been closer since slapping him for leaving Fodlan, and then crushing him in a rib breaking hug upon his return. She’s taken to studying Almyran like a champ, and the days before she can out debate him in his mother tongue are numbered. He’s so proud.

“I’m mourning all my dead shirts,” Claude says. There’s some weird magic in Askr that helps destroy or maintain his clothing like nothing else; despite all the rip and tears, his uniform is always pressed new for the next round of combat. Sometimes he’ll have half sewn a rip, preparing to finish it tomorrow, only to awake to it done. Suspicions point to Teach or Kiran, but no one has admitted to it yet.

Either way, it’s rather irritating in the middle of combat to have to adjust his top between arrows.

“Oh, that again,” Lysithea rolls her eyes, sweeping her fur cape with a hmph. “Have you considered upgrading to better amor?”

“You sound like El,” he retorts. The name rolls off his tongue a little strangely, but Lysithea seems pleased. The girls have gotten along like a house on fire, and though he’d been surprised to hear Edelgard request them refer to her by a nickname, there was no way he wasn’t going to take up the offer.

He imagines there was a chance she had done it so he wouldn’t feel half as awkward when he would request the same. On some days he gets close, but the words never make it out of his mouth, and none of them ever force the topic.

It’s nice, this future even he couldn’t have accounted for.

“I’d rather sound like her majesty than you. It’s a legitimate question!” Lysithea scoffs. Claude smacks his chest, moaning in exaggerated pain as he stumbles about the room until he’s leaning against her.

“Oh, my poor heart! My limbs grow weak, far too frail to handle such heavy armor! Lysithea, protect me!” She squawks beneath him, shaking as he presses more of his weight onto her.

“Claude! You’re so heavy! Get off!”

“My respect! My kingdom! My poor shirts!”

“Don’t make me Dark Spikes T you!”

“Woe is me! My own little sister—betrayal!”

“Er, ahem.”

They freeze in place before bouncing apart, eyes darting to Dimitri’s lopsided smile at the doorway. Dimitri gives them a little wave as they pretend to dust off dirt that doesn’t exist. Well, Lysithea does. Claude simple runs a hand through his hair, whistling a jaunty tune.

“Your majesty,” Lysithea coughs, her eyes resolutely on the floor, “what brings you here?”

“Yeah, I thought you were out in the Arena today.” Claude had heard earlier that morning that Teach had been speaking with Kiran about utilizing their new strategies in the arena to see how they matched up against other heroes. He hadn’t expected to see, well, more than one Teach. Three of them, really, and one accompanying Rhea, both in swimsuits? Certainly made dinner interesting that night.

But Teach is Teach, after all, and he’d be hard pressed to imagine a reality they wouldn’t prefer to spend the night away strategizing how to best coordinate with their students. Even in a new world, not much has changed.

“I was asked to, but I refused. It would be rather rude to battle alone without my partner, right?”

Scratch that. Something very important has changed.

“Oh, right. We should strategize for this, huh?” Claude hums, scratching at his chin. He waves at Lysithea, winking, “see you, Lys! Don’t become too much like Edelgard while I’m gone!”

“If only I’ll be so lucky!” She snaps.

It had been Teach’s idea to give them an ally support. It was a rather interesting system here in Askr—companions would be paired up as allies to fight in battle, encouraged to cover each other’s flanks to build trust. To be frank, he had been a little skeptical about the idea. It would be dangerous for two allies to rely more on each other than the rest of their troops, potentially splitting off and doing more damage than harm.

There’s also the fact that working with Dimitri is eerily similar to what he had wanted back in Fodlan, years ago.

“I have never realized how well our skills work together,” Dimitri says. He smiles at Claude, free of the darkness that shrouded the one Claude had encountered on Gronder Field, asking a cornered beast for peace.

“We’re a good match,” Claude shrugs. He considers saying something more, something dangerous, like how he had strategized countless ways for them to work together only to find out Dimitri had died before he could even say goodbye. But who knows what that might do to Dimitri when, or if, they ever return to their respective worlds? Better to keep to himself.

“We are,” Dimitri affirms.

“Not sure how we’re going supposed to zip off the battlefield to get married though. Got any ideas?” Claude jokes. Dimitri sputters, his eye widening as he turns away, coughing.

“That’s—I haven’t, unfortunately,” He smacks his chest, clearing his throat. Claude grins, letting his hands rest behind his head, waiting for Dimitri to get himself together. “Actually, Edelgard told me I should come here. She said you, ah, have a problem with your armor.”

“Aw, so you weren’t just thinking of me?” Dimitri makes a sound not unlike that of a wounded animal. Yikes. Claude pats his shoulder, laughing. “Well, that’s one way to put it. Have you noticed that my shirt hasn’t survived a single battle?”

Dimitri’s cheeks are definitely a little red by now. He hesitates, eye flickering between Claude and the floor before deciding the floor is infinitely more interesting. Or distracting.

“Yes,” Dimitri finally concedes, and it is so similar to the one Claude had known back in the Academy he finds himself fond.

“I’m not sure why, but the enemies here keep aiming for here,” Claude pulls at the cut of his armor, skewing it slightly to the side. Dimitri is still looking at the floor. Great. “It’s not cheap to repair our armor over and over.” That, if nothing else, gets Dimitri to look back at him.

“I’ve never had to repair mine. Is someone not taking care of yours?” Dimitri asks with a frown. Ah, so someone is sewing them new again after all. Claude files that little tidbit away for later. One mystery at a time.

“Nah, I’m just messing with you. It’s just weird that people keep aiming for my chest,” he shrugs. Dimitri hums, pondering as he glances down at his own armor. While not as bulky as Edelgard’s wear, he’s not winning any lightweight prizes either.

“Well,” Dimitri hesitates, turning back to Claude, “that is standard for combat is it not? It is a clean and easy way to end a foe.”

“It is. It’s just the way that they attack…” Oh, wait. Claude stills, staring at Dimitri’s chestplate. Now that he thinks of it, Dimitri has often returned from battle with shattered armor as well, though not exactly in the same regions and certainly more parsed out. He probably hadn’t even thought of the damage as odd.

“Actually,” Claude grins, “It might just be easier to show you. Here, rip my shirt.”

“Excuse me?!”

“You’re excused!” Hard not to chuckle at Dimitri’s squeaky yell. Any higher and Claude would be forced to nominate him for a performance ball. “Seriously, try it. Uh, not too hard, don’t leave me naked. I just want you to see something.”

Dimitri falters a moment longer, eye seeming to be unable to decide whether the ceiling, Claude’s armor, or his own hands are the most mystifying thing in the universe. He swallows, tipping his chin to stare up at the ceiling, before exhaling. Cracks his knuckles. Okay.

“Not too hard,” Claude reminds him. Dimitri nods, though the words might not have made it through, because he grabs Claude’s collar and wrenches it forward, the tear noisy in the hall. Perfect.

“See?” Claude scoffs, gesturing. He hadn’t known if it would work perfectly, but Dimitri has gone above and beyond, tearing a strip right across his chest. The fabric scraps even seem to dangle exactly the same as last night, returning from an Aether raid. “Every time I fight my armor rips right across here. Lucky I’m not a girl, huh, or I couldn’t really fight with a bow.”

“That’s,” Dimitri squeaks. “I’d rather you not fight with a bow regardless of your gender, Claude. People will—people will still _look_.” Say what he will, Dimitri can’t meet him in the eyes. Actually, now that he’s looking closer, Dimitri is looking more than a little flustered—it’s not unusual for him to be embarrassed from Claude’s teasing, but his cheeks are a red that threatens to put Lorenz’s rose gardens out of business.

“Uh, are you okay? Hey your majesty, you’re looking a little sick,” Claude prods. Calling Dimitri by his title rather than his name usually gets a little rebuttal, but he doesn’t react now with more than a choked noise.

“I-I am fine, my apologies.” Dimitri sputters, turning away to hide his face behind his hand.

“Uhuh. What’s wrong, then?” Dimitri shakes his head. Claude frowns, pressing in closer, the temptation to simply grab Dimitri’s face and force him to look at Claude growing. But they’re partners now, allies in combat, and it would be rather rude, king to king, to grab Dimitri without warning.

“I… believe I might know why people keep aiming for your shirt.”

Now that’s a surprise.

“Really? Wow, that’s the mind of his majesty, huh!” A pleasant surprise, no less. Claude knocks their shoulders together, grinning. “So, what is it? Is it something in the Askr air, you think?”

“No.”

“Something weird with my armor?”

“No.”

“Hmm, something weird with me?”

“N-no.”

Right, like that isn’t suspicious at all. Dimitri has lowered his hand, thankfully, but his face hasn’t gotten any less red, and his voice any less strained. It doesn’t help that he’s still refusing to look Claude in the eyes.

“What’s the reason, then, your majesty?” Claude presses, leaning in until he’s tucked near Dimitri’s chin, staring upward. He had forgotten how much taller Dimitri grew in the years apart, not like it particularly matters. This close, Dimitri can’t avoid him any longer, and he swallows as his eyes dart from side to side.

“Claude… I can see your n-n-,” Dimitri makes a noise akin to a wounded animal in the wild, _again_. Claude’s going to have to tell Lysithea to keep a look out if there’s some poisonous weeds nearby that have gone missing. “I can see your chest.”

“Yes, and?”

“With your shirt. Ripped. Your, your naked chest.”

“Yes,” Claude repeats, raising an incredulous brow. “ _And_?”

Dimitri freezes once more, though his eyes do finally manage to shift their way back towards Claude. Well, his general region, anyway. He’s tempted to ask Dimitri to look him in the eyes instead of hovering somewhere between his chin and his chest, but Dimitri clears his throat and straightens up before he can do so.

“… I think I understand why our professor has paired us together. I will do my best from this point forward to protect you from any enemies, Claude. I swear upon my honor.”

“Huh?” As soon as he says it, Dimitri steps away, coughing loudly. “What brought this on? Hey, Dimitri? Your Majesty? Hello?”

“Goodbye!”

“Hey!” It’s too late. Dimitri’s rather fast when he needs to be, leaving Claude alone in the hall with a ripped shirt, _again_. At least he knows now that it doesn’t have to be combat damage alone that will tear his armor.

Speaking of, didn’t Dimitri say someone was repairing his armor too? Who would be the culprit of that… Teach? Kiran? He’s sure that it would be useful if they had some tiny hands at play for the intricate weaves. They need to get their threads from somewhere, surely.

Oh! Didn’t Teach say something about forging bonds to gain new accessories? Maybe that’s where they get their endless supply from. Not that they can get any right now, with Dimitri all red and making choking noises.

“I got to tell Teach that Dimitri’s sick,” Claude grumbles. First, though, he should probably fix his shirt, huh? He sighs, picking at the ripped fabric. It’s torn a little rougher than usual, as expected from someone’s bare fists rather than a sword, but not so different in shape than the slashes he normally receives. Maybe he should invest in bulkier armor after all.

“Why is everyone being so weird with my chest…?”

**Author's Note:**

> Last DMCL day!!! Free day time aka TIME TO WRITE ABOUT CYL CLAUDE'S DAMAGED FORM  
> I said I would write this only if dmcl came home and THEY DID so this is their reward for coming to me~ They are married now uwu
> 
> Claude has +99 social intelligence and +99 awareness of everyone else but -10 for himself. Hes just "there is nothing wrong with my damaged form" as El and Lysithea sigh and Dimitri dies in the corner. Byleths had a good time strategizing who to pair with who  
> Fun HCs about CYL  
> \- Edelgard got big honker boob armor so that she can store things in them. When enemies stab there thinking they got her in the heart she just smirks and OHKO  
> \- If you equip Dima with his accessory, he wears two eyepatches, one to protect the other. No one corrects him because it makes him happy  
> \- Claude and Lysithea have sleepovers in FEH. Theyre pretty happy to have come together rather than alone, and eventually the sleepovers evolve to the point that the fe3h cast just joins in. Aether resorts need more slots
> 
> Judge my life choices on [ twitter ](https://twitter.com/shidreamin/)


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